Writers are such phonies: they sometimes have wise insights but they don't live by them at all. That's what writers are like...you think they know something, but usually they are just messes.

Emerald as heavy as a golf course, ruby as dark as an afterbirth, diamond as white as sun on the sea.

Saints have no moderation, nor do poets, just exuberance.

I am a collection of dismantled almosts.

Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.

As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.

I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.

Watch out for intellect, because it knows so much it knows nothing and leaves you hanging upside down, mouthing knowledge as your heart falls out of your mouth.

Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.

O starry night, This is how I want to die

O yellow eye, let me be sick with your heat, let me be feverish and frowning.

If you can't convince them, confuse them.

In my dreams I ate and I ate my dreams.

You can't be a bad boy without somebody scolding you.

I loved Frank [O'Connor], he was wonderful...just don't get on his bad side. I don't think I would have wanted to marry him, but I probably should have since I married idiots anyway.

I hate it in friends when they come too late to help.

[To write poems] I think it's important to do research, and research mostly is going to come from books, so all of your reading is potentially helpful to your poetry.

When you say, "Wait a moment," you are bound by your karma; when you say "Yes I will," you are free.

When you understand things, there's no more magic.

The only one who doesn't make mistakes is the one who doesn't do anything.

There is meaning in all things. But are you paying attention?